Chapter 8.8 – We make for Ultramar
Explosions rocked the Phalanx as Omegon directed the escape. He didn't know how much longer the Golden Throne would last but it likely wasn't long. They needed to get as much distance between them and Terra as quickly as possible.
"Tell the Starboard to keep the pressure on the Invincible Reason," ordered Omegon, "How long until we can jump?"
"Two minutes my Lord," replied Alexis Polux, now commander of the Imperial Fists.
"Inform all friendly ships they are to sync their jumps along with ours. We don't want to leave anyone behind but we cannot stop if they aren't ready."
The Vanguard Fleet had done its work. The enemy were scattered across the system which left the Phalanx an opportunity to run without much resistance. That was, not much resistance except the Lion.
"Omegon…" sang the vox channel from the Invincible Reason, "You don't have to flee. Make a choice… give up Father. I can show the path to powers you can only dream of."
"Block that vox channel," commanded Omegon, "Focus on the objective."
The chronometers ticked down to zero. The entirely of the Odessey Fleet engaged their warp engines prepared for the translation to the immaterium. The Invincible Reason continued its assault, desperately trying to cripple the Phalanx before it could escape. It was to no effect.
"Translating."
Omegon watched as the ship lurched into the warp, the rest of the Fleet keeping pace.
It was a wild jump, flying blind without the Astronomican to guide them. The had no clue where they would end up. The hope was they would hit the outer edges of Segementum Ultima and push on towards Chemos but it was a vain hope. To arrive in one piece would be considered victory enough.
As the ships were rocked and buffeted by the warp storms, Omegon stared out into the swirling Chaos. As they pressed on, just for a moment, he thought he saw the face of Sanguinius, shrieking in agony. But the mind plays tricks on itself, seeing patterns where they do not belong. If there was one thing Omegon could be certain of, it was that the warp was trickery incarnate.
Chronometers counted down to the reversion to real space. It would take some time to reach Segementum Ultima, but they would push onwards none the less.
As Omegon tapped his fingers against a railing on the Phalanx's bridge, the door opened to the outer corridor and a new figure strode in.
Every man, woman and Mechanicus Adept paused in their work, their attention drawn to the magnificence of the figure. Some collapsed to their knees. Others began to quietly weep in joy.
The Emperor advanced to the Captain's chair, the Phalanx's human commander desperately scrabbling to make way for the Golden Warrior. The Master of Mankind took his seat, as Omegon approached to bow before his Lord.
"Father," said Omegon, tilting his head low, "I am glad to see you recovered."
"We must drop out of warp. Immediately," commanded the Emperor, "Inform the Fleet and bring us out at once."
"We are still some time from Chemos," replied Omegon, slightly bemused by the request.
"Trust in me, Omegon," said the Emperor, fixing his Primarch with a hardened stare.
Omegon turned and gave the orders to the crew of the Phalanx. The Odessey Fleet wrenched itself early from the warp and dropped into real space, hanging in the empty void between systems.
"Where are we?" asked Omegon, "Report."
"We are… in Segementum Tempestus," replied the sensor officer, "The very outer edges. We are not currently in system, but the closest Imperial would is probably Tallarn."
The Emperor nodded sagely. Tallarn was not too far from their expected course, Omegon considered, but had they kept going they would have ended up in the middle of nowhere, low on supplies and potentially hounded by the enemy with no clear plan.
"I will need vox communications to the entire fleet," ordered the Emperor, "At once. This must include the Civilian vessels as well."
Officers scurried around like rats to obey the orders of the Master of Mankind. Omegon simply looked up at his Father with a mixture of confusion, awe and wonder. He could only begin to imagine what plans and schemes the Emperor was concocting in this moment. He hoped they would be shared with him, much like the secrets of the Cabal immediately after the death of Horus. That had been Malcador, but he knew the orders had come from the Emperor himself.
"Connection established," called the vox operator.
"Citizens of the Imperium," boomed the Emperor, "Loyal children of Terra, Mars and beyond. Your Emperor speaks to you now. Hear my words and know that I stand strong amongst you this day."
Across the void, silence rang, but aboard every vessel, billions of voices rang out with a cheer and adulation. The Master of Mankind lived. The Master of Mankind was with them.
"We have suffered a grievous blow to our Imperium," continued the Emperor, "The loss of Terra will mark a dark day in our glorious history. But I order every man, woman and child to take heart. There must be no sorrows, there must be no tears. The must be nothing but Hope! For there is Hope, Hope for us all, Hope for the Future! This is No Longer a desperate bid for survival. I am here to guide you all. There is much conflict ahead, but together we SHALL prevail!"
The Emperor paused, composing his next words carefully.
"The Astonomican is gone, but its power and light still remains. It remains within me. I shall continue to be what I have always been. The Light House that guides our species to better shores. I shall chart the path through the warp for which all ships should follow. The road may be long, but trust in me and my Light and we shall soon see a green and pleasant land. Hope, my Loyal Subjects, Hope. If you do nothing else in this time of conflict, simply Hope. Hope for a better tomorrow. Hope to feel comfort once again. Hope to start a fresh on a new world with new opportunities and dreams. All I ask of you is to hope."
The Emperor stood, casting his arms wide as he made his final proclamation.
"Know this, my beloved Imperium. This Odessey Fleet has a destination. We make now for the Realm of Ultramar. We shall gather all those sons and daughters that still remain true to the Imperium's Light. Take heart, and know soon we shall be embraced by the generosity of those that call Ultramar home. Hope. My people, Hope. Until we shall speak again, embrace Hope."
With that, the vox communications were severed. The Emperor strode from the room, turning briefly to glance at Omegon.
"Omegon, attend me. There is much to discuss. Join me in the Temple of Oaths, but summon Mortarion here at once. I shall need you both in the times to come."
Omegon nodded, and set about obeying his Lord's command. A pair of Custodes entered the Phalanx's command deck to form up with their Master. Once again his presence was felt by them, and whilst neither said a word, their gladness warmed their hearts.
It would not take long for Mortarion to arrive. The Primarch departed immediately following the Emperor's speech, not even waiting to hear the words from Omegon that he was summoned. Another came with the Death Guard to the Phalanx. The Emperor didn't even seem surprised when the Mechanicus Adept bowed before her Lord.
"Greetings to you, oh beloved Omnisiah. I am Acting Fabricator General Trimejia Diadanei."
"What happened to Fabricator General Kane?" asked Omegon.
"Regrettably my forebearer chose to remain on Sacred Mars," canted Diadanei mournfully, "As did many of our people. The loss of Sacred Mars will be a wound from which we shall never recover."
"As the loss of Terra is a wound for Imperium also," nodded the Emperor, "We shall one day retake Sacred Mars. Your Omnisiah wills it so."
"By your command, my Lord," replied the Acting Fabricator General, "Before my departure my predecessor granted me the title of Acting Fabricator General so that I might lead our people during this new Age of Strife."
"This is NOT an Age of Strife," growled the Emperor, his eyes blazing, "We are at war, this is true. We walk the galaxy without the Astronomican to guide us but this is NOT an Age of Strife. My Imperium shall be made whole again once more. This is naught but a setback, which shall be swiftly remedied."
"As you say, my Lord. Forgive my error. I am to lead our people during this… conflict."
The Emperor nodded as another figure entered the Temple of Oaths. The individual was tall, lithe, and not human. Removing his helm he gave the Emperor a nod of respect.
"Revelation," said Eldrad in greeting, "Or should I call you Emperor? Master of Mankind? Or does another name please you?"
"Filthy Xenos…" hissed Mortarion, grabbing his scythe and advancing on the Aeldari.
"Stop, Mortarion," commanded the Emperor.
"But he is an alien!" protested the Pale King, "What is he doing aboard the Phalanx?"
"He knows much about the enemy we now face," replied the Emperor, "And he has come here to provide his services… haven't you Eldrad."
"Service, perhaps not. Partnership, maybe," said Eldrad with a frown, "I see despite everything you have not changed, Emperor. Know that I am not your servant like these warriors you have made for yourself. I will aid you, for the sake of our mutual threat. But I do so as an equal, not an attendant."
"You dare-" snarled Mortarion.
"Enough, Mortarion," said the Emperor forcefully, "The witchery of Magnus and the traitors is of greater consequence today. We must grant Eldrad and his kin a place within these halls so that we can manage the destruction caused by the wayward sons that seek our annihilation."
Mortarion growled but said nothing further.
"You can feel He Who Sorrows, can't you?" asked Eldrad, "Much as She Who Thirsts pulls on my people, now He pulls on yours."
"The Ritual performed on Terra has placed a curse upon our people it is true," nodded the Emperor, couching his response in language his sons could follow, "Our war against the forces of the immaterium has taken on a new dimension. We must find a way to absolve ourselves of this hex."
"Your people across the galaxy are feeding Him on a daily basis," replied Eldrad, "Your Imperium has become a potent source for despair and sorrow as a result of your ruthlessness, not to mention the collapse of travel between your worlds."
More grumbles from Mortarion.
"I have… solutions for this problem," remarked the Emperor, "Our Odessey Fleet will become a beacon of Hope, and we shall bring this Light to the rest of the Imperium."
"You cannot mandate Hope," said Eldrad with a shake of his head, "Any more than my people could mandate a complete prohibition on pain and pleasure. Words and laws alone are not enough, actions must be taken. You might have bolstered your defences for today, but that will fade. Be it a day, a week, a month. A rousing speech is not a long term solution."
"I have… plans."
"I'm sure you do. So do we. We shall share them in the fullness of time. But first we need to get to safety."
"Indeed," boomed the Emperor, "The forces of the immaterium, including the traitors from Terra, will pursue us as we continue our voyage. We will likely be forced to engage them before we reach our final destination. We must prepare for battle."
"The Mechanicum stands ready to serve the Omnisiah," canted Diadanei.
"The Death Guard likewise are ready to serve," answered Mortarion, "But it is unfortunate the losses we have taken. The Imperial Fists are stalward, but they are broken. I possess a mere quarter of my original Legion's strength. The enemy was scattered at Sol, but they can field far beyond our number if they managed to rally and chase us down."
"We must prepare for whatever may come," replied the Emperor, "Every warrior must be made ready. Every ship must be primed. When our foes take the field against us we much commit every resource available to ensure we reach our destination without delay. The very fate of our species depends upon our victory."